


ballads we sing, poems we write

by wolfsupremacist



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bonnie and Clyde, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 18:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsupremacist/pseuds/wolfsupremacist
Summary: jongin met chanyeol in 1930, and they made it all the way to 1934, hand in hand





	ballads we sing, poems we write

When he was young, Jongin got in trouble once with his teacher. She scolded him proper, and when he got home, his mother had nothing but the same for him. He never got into much mischief again, because she told him something that must have gotten caught between his ears: 

_Once you start running, baby, it’s hard to stop._

He doesn’t know when he forgot, but it was probably around the time when he first met Chanyeol: the winter of 1930.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
He thinks it was some early January night, if Jongin’s memory is to be trusted. He thinks he’s right, because it was just when the snows first started to fall to the dusty earth.

Jongin’s friend, Kyungsoo...he invited a bunch of boys he knew over. That’s what they did back then when they were bored. Nothin’ to do elsewhere, so they all got together. Drank if they could get it. And Jongin was invited, so Jongin went. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” Kyungsoo said as he greeted him, pulling him into a hug before whispering, “There’s hooch. Me and my daddy made it.” 

“You trying to sweeten me up?” Jongin asked. Then it clicked. Kyungsoo was smart. He planned things two steps ahead. “You must want me to meet someone then.” 

“I just think you would be a good influence on him,” Kyungsoo said. “Come on, they’re all playing cards.” 

Kyungsoo took Jongin by the arm, walked with him out to the great room. There was a bunch of them on the floor, huddled in a circle of four. Jongin tried not to blush, looking at them. They were all handsome, dark-haired and smiling, laughing up a storm. 

“Sit, sit,” Kyungsoo said. “I’ll get you that drink.” 

“Okay,” Jongin said shyly, and he sat down on the outskirts of the circle, the game already in progress. He wasn’t much of a card player, though: he preferred to sit back and watch. 

The boys turned to look at him, four sets of eyes. Jongin shrank a bit under the attention. 

“Where’d he find you?” one of them asked, hand on Jongin’s ankle. “Pretty little thing.” 

Jongin looked at him, one of the two shorter boys. He bit his lip between his teeth, winked lewdly at Jongin. Jongin quickly looked away, and despite the cold, he felt his cheeks go hot. 

“Leave the kid alone,” another said, one of the taller ones. His legs folded into a large pretzel, and Jongin wondered how much taller he’d be if he stood up, or even just stretched his legs out straight. The boy brushed the other’s hand off Jongin. “I’m Chanyeol.” He put all his cards in one hand, reached the other out to Jongin to shake. 

“Jongin,” he said softly, and Chanyeol’s hand was warm in his. “Kyungsoo and I have been friends since we were kids.” 

“Oh,” the other tall one said. “He’s told us all about you.” 

_Oh no_ , Jongin thought. _What’s he been saying? Should I be worried?_

“Introduce yourselves,” Chanyeol said, turning back to the circle, throwing a card down into the center. 

“Sehun.” 

“Jongdae.” 

“Baekhyun,” the first boy said, and he held Jongin by the ankle again. “And you’re a looker.” 

“Quit it,” Chanyeol said. “Or else I’ll thump you.” 

“Okay, okay,” Baekhyun said, holding his hand up like he meant no harm, and Jongin could see that he didn’t: there was something about him that read as harmless. Jongin smiled. Baekhyun smiled back. “You want in on the next hand?” 

“What are you playing?” Jongin asked, hands pulling at his shirt nervously. 

“Gin,” Sehun said, throwing to the discard. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Jongin said. “I’ll just watch.” 

“ _Passive_ ,” Baekhyun said. “Good news, Chanyeol.” 

Chanyeol walloped Baekhyun on the head, and it resulted in everyone’s laughter, like that was something they were used to. Jongin laughed along nervously. 

“You gotta be firm with him,” Chanyeol said, watching the cards in the center stack, eyes like a hawk. “Otherwise, he’ll walk all over you, doll.” 

The pet name made Jongin’s face go hot again, and Jongin tried to hide a smile. Chanyeol was handsome, hair slicked back off his forehead, tell-tale shadow of a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. He shot Jongin a smile as he knocked against the hardwood floor, eliciting a groan from the rest of the boys. 

“You’re cheatin’ again,” Jongdae whined. 

“Your own damn fault for playing with me,” Chanyeol said, and as the round wrapped up, he started scribbling on the scratch paper they had, keeping score. 

Jongin chanced a look over. He didn’t know what he expected: Chanyeol was easily in the lead. 

“You sure you don’t wanna play, dollface?” Chanyeol asked, a sly smile. 

Looking back on it now, Jongin isn’t sure what came over him in that moment, what made him lean forward and smirk back at Chanyeol. All he knows is that it gripped him by the stomach, filled him head to toe with the most overwhelming confidence he’d ever felt in his life. 

“I don’t mess around with cheaters no more,” Jongin said.

The boys in the circle hollered out their laughter, and Jongin smiled at them, feeling distinctly like those were people he could belong to.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin drank a little more than he normally would, but who could blame him? The intoxication was hitting him from all sides.

Chanyeol dipped out of the game of rummy, and he sat next to Jongin on the floor, an arm around his waist. Jongin wasn’t used to that kind of physical affection anymore, especially not from other boys: he wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was, and he knew how people would think about him if they knew. So mostly, he kept to himself. 

Chanyeol, Jongin discovered, wasn’t like that at all. He lived loud. And Jongin found he liked that. 

Kyungsoo smiled at him as he gave Jongin his glass, refilled for the second time, and it made Jongin bolder than usual. He leaned into Chanyeol’s side, into the embrace. It was something he dreamed about sometimes, lying in bed at night. He couldn’t understand what the problem was. What could be wrong about something this _right_? 

“You’re a good kid, aren’t you?” Chanyeol whispered, the din of the rest of the boys swallowing them up. “You play by the rules, don’t you?” 

“You be quiet,” Jongin said. 

“I can tell,” Chanyeol said, and he ran his hand through Jongin’s hair, mussing up the careful styling. “Bet you go to church with Mama and Daddy every Sunday.” 

It was more intimate an action than Jongin had ever let himself have before, even this little, casual touch. Even though he’d been in love before. He closed his eyes, felt Chanyeol’s short fingernails scratch his scalp. 

“Hush,” Jongin made himself say even as he made a slash mark out of the line between them, leaning, leaning into Chanyeol’s warmth. 

“There’s just somethin’ ‘bout you,” Chanyeol said wistfully, and Jongin let himself dream that impossible dream for a moment and then a moment more. 

He laid his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and Chanyeol looked down at him. The house was so cold, barely heated at all, but Jongin didn’t notice with the way the warmth shot through him. Quick like a bullet. 

“What about me?” 

Chanyeol tipped Jongin’s chin up with the pad of a finger, and his gaze cut through Jongin clean. 

“I think I got a crush, doll,” he said, and with that, Jongin felt himself falling, deep, deeply for this boy.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Chanyeol played the guitar, Jongin found.

He watched, enraptured, as Chanyeol’s long fingers strummed the strings and his raspy baritone crooned out a love song. Jongin hummed a little harmony, and Chanyeol’s smile widened. 

“I always wanted to be famous,” Chanyeol said. “Always wanted to play for people.” He set the guitar down, walked over. Jongin looked down at the floor, still gunshy. 

“You’re good,” Jongin said. “Real good.” 

Chanyeol took Jongin in his arms, a move that caught Jongin off balance and by surprise. He gasped. 

“You think?” Chanyeol asked, tilting his head to the side. He was so cute. So, so cute. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said. “I do.” 

Chanyeol smiled. “Thank you.” 

“Where’d you grow up?” Jongin asked, and Chanyeol’s hands fell to Jongin’s waist as they stood there in the kitchen. 

Jongin had stopped drinking by that point, and cooling hot cocoa rested on the table as Chanyeol held him in his arms, mugs completely forgotten. Chanyeol stared into Jongin’s eyes, and Jongin resisted the desire to look away. 

“Ellis County,” Chanyeol said. “Just near Telico.” 

“Oh, that’s not too far,” Jongin said, and he knew the area was poor. Knew what happened to boys like Chanyeol. 

It was what happened to his first love. They were so young. Didn’t know anything. They played house. Called themselves married. But he was always away, always in and out of jail. It wasn’t something to mess with. Still, if Jongin looks back on his diaries, he knows that he’d find the scribblings of some fool who just wanted to be loved. Some dreamer who wanted more. 

“No, not far at all,” Chanyeol said, and he squeezed Jongin’s hips in his hands. “Tell me about yourself. What do you get up to, huh? Good lookin’ boy like you?” 

“Be quiet,” Jongin said, and he looked to the side. 

“I’m bein’ serious,” Chanyeol said with close-lipped smile. “I bet everyone wants a piece of you.” 

“Maybe I don’t want none of them to get a piece,” Jongin said, and he looked Chanyeol dead-on, right down the barrel, and Chanyeol’s smiled broadened. 

He leaned in, studied Jongin carefully. Jongin stood up a little straighter. 

“Look at you,” Chanyeol said. “Got a little fire in your belly, don’t cha?” 

“Only when I’m lookin’ at you,” Jongin said. 

Chanyeol bit his lip, looked down at Jongin’s mouth. “You are some kinda something.” He moved a little, eyes flicking back up to look into Jongin’s eyes. “Can I kiss you?” 

There was something magical about him, a glittering golden air around him that drew Jongin in like the hand of God. Was this fate? Was this what he’d been waiting for? The adventure to whisk him away, show him the world? Jongin’s eyelashes fluttered, and he half expected Chanyeol to disappear before him, somethin’ like a dream. 

“Yes, you can kiss me,” Jongin said softly, and Chanyeol wasted no time, never hesitated, just swiftly closed the gap between them. 

He kissed Jongin chastely, their lips soft against each others, and Jongin sighed out, melted into Chanyeol’s arms as the kiss deepened. Chanyeol’s hands moved against him, skimmed along him, and Jongin arched, pushed into it. He had never wanted so badly. He wanted Chanyeol. 

The kiss didn’t last long, but by the time Chanyeol broke it, Jongin was in love.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
From that day on, they were inseparable.

They didn’t fall in love. There was nowhere to fall. It was like they were supposed to met, some stroke of fate. They were always in love. It was this thing that stretched on and on. 

Chanyeol would stop by in a car that changed, and Jongin found that funny. He never asked, but he knew. He was stealing them. Jongin always hopped in the passenger’s seat. Went for a ride, wherever Chanyeol wanted to take him. 

“How are ya, baby?” Chanyeol asked. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you more,” Jongin said. 

The car parked, the lonesome road forgotten, and Chanyeol turned to him, took Jongin’s face in his big hands. “Never.” 

Jongin looked in his eyes. He wasn’t lying. He liked Jongin just as much as Jongin liked him. 

Chanyeol always kissed him like they’d been together forever. And Jongin let himself have what he wanted.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin wasn’t stupid. Still ain’t. He always knew Chanyeol was a little dangerous. There was something fun about it, something enticing. Chanyeol’s smile could make him forget where his money came from. Charming. More than charming.

He would buy Jongin cigarettes, Camels, and him knowing, remembering all the little silly things Jongin told him...that meant the world to Jongin. No one ever really listened to him before. He liked feeling heard. Feeling like someone was listening. 

“I know I hooked y’all up,” Kyungsoo said, “but you be careful with him.” 

“We’re not doin’ nothing,” Jongin said, nudging his shoulder into Kyungsoo’s. 

“Is that what the kids are callin’ it these days?” Kyungsoo smirked. “ _Nothin’_?” 

Jongin squawked, slapped Kyungsoo on the shoulder. “Shut your mouth, or by God, I will rip that tongue of yours out.” 

“You really ain’t doin’ nothing’?” Kyungsoo asked. 

Jongin thinks back on it now, though all his memories are a bit hazy of those early days before things picked up between them. He remembers them sitting in Chanyeol’s car, kissing. He remembers Chanyeol’s hands on his waist. He remembers Chanyeol sucking a mark to Jongin’s neck, one he kept bruised like a brand. Nothin’ more than that. 

“None of your business what we’re doin’ or not doin’,” Jongin said. 

“Awful feisty,” Kyungsoo said, looking down and smiling. “He already got to you.” 

Jongin remembers that moment clearly, feeling like he really had made a change in his life. Chanyeol always treated him like glass, like he was about to break. But Jongin wanted to be strong. Wanted to stand up and be somethin’. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said. “I think he did.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin ran out to Chanyeol’s car, running to the driver’s side and kissing him through the open window.

“Hey there, sweet thing,” Chanyeol said, and he pressed another kiss to Jongin’s lips. “You taste like sugar.” 

Jongin rolled his eyes, skipped around to the passengers side and hopped in. He knew Chanyeol probably talked to a lot of boys that way, told them things they wanted to hear. But Jongin didn’t much care: he liked it. And he was ready to take what he wanted. 

They drove for a while, and Jongin stuck his hand out the window, let it ride on the wind. 

“I got some bad news,” Chanyeol said.

Jongin turned. Chanyeol didn’t look nervous, just tightened his hands on the wheel a bit. “What’s that?” 

“Think I’m gonna be doing some time soon,” Chanyeol said. “So I just wanted to...to let you know.” 

Jongin’s heart dropped. He...he knew. He knew that Chanyeol was doin’ some shit on the side. He just wasn’t quite sure how bad it was. Now he knew. 

“How long?” Jongin asked. 

“A while,” Chanyeol said. “So if you aren’t ready to wait around for me, I’d unde—”

“I’ll wait,” Jongin said quickly. “I’ll wait for you.” 

Chanyeol took his eyes off the road for a moment, smiled at Jongin. That smile gave Jongin goosebumps every time. 

“How’d I find you, huh?” Chanyeol said. “How’d I get so lucky?” 

Jongin didn’t say what he was thinking, didn’t tell Chanyeol that _he_ was the lucky one, but he’s sure that he looked just as lovestruck as he felt. 

He didn’t care what Chanyeol got up to. Didn’t care how long he had to wait. He’d be there for when Chanyeol got back, no matter what.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
It wasn’t until Chanyeol was gone that Jongin realized just how much he would miss him. His laughter, his energy, his way of dragging Jongin out of his shell, showing him a world Jongin’s only heard of before. There was danger, and Chanyeol lived in the middle of it. Cracking safes and stealing cars, kissing Jongin and leaving him wanting more.

Jongin wanted in. He wanted to be wherever Chanyeol was. 

“Hi,” Chanyeol said, leaning over the table. They couldn’t kiss here, but a hug was worth a hundred bucks or more. Jongin took it, took as much as he could. “Been a while.” 

“Yeah,” Jongin said, and he tried not to tear up. “A while.” 

Chanyeol looked bad. Light dyin’ from his eyes. He didn’t look like the boy Jongin remembered. Looked sadder. Meaner. It didn’t scare Jongin, though. It made him mad. 

“How are you doin’?” Chanyeol asked. “Sehun and the boys takin’ care of you?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin said. “They’re keepin’ an eye on me.” 

“Good,” Chanyeol said. “Good. I been worried about you.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” Jongin said, and he took Chanyeol’s hand in his. “Worry about yourself.” Chanyeol looked down. “Someone hurtin’ you?” 

Chanyeol shot a look up. “Not anymore.” 

Jongin swallowed thickly. 

“I’ll get you out,” Jongin whispered. “I’ll do anything.” 

Chanyeol knocked his foot into Jongin’s. 

Jongin knocked his right back before hooking his ankle around Chanyeol’s. 

“Gat,” Chanyeol said under his breath. “Next time, okay?” 

Jongin tried not to let his eyes go wide. _In or out. You gotta pick._

“Kay,” Jongin said. “Hang in there, baby.” 

“Anything for you,” Chanyeol said, and he winked.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
He found out how long the sentence was. Fourteen years. That was too damn long. Jongin wouldn’t be waiting around for that.

He slipped Chanyeol the gun when no one was looking, wrapped up in a napkin with sweets laid strategically over top. 

“Mm,” Chanyeol said, holding it all in his hands. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” 

Jongin grinned, wanted to put his hands flat on the table so he could kiss Chanyeol on the mouth. He wanted to taste his lips again, wanted...wanted so much more than what they’d done before. He wanted more than kissing. Wanted to belong to him in all ways. 

Jongin waited and waited for Chanyeol to return, and when he did, he pulled up outside Jongin’s house and hollered for him. Jongin came running. 

“Baby,” he said, eyes brimming. “Baby, I missed you.” 

“Get in,” Chanyeol said. “I’m takin’ you someplace.” 

And Jongin got in the car, held Chanyeol’s free hand, the other casual on the wheel. He felt everything shift into place around them as they ran from the night that chased them, sparkling with endless stars. 

When they finally stopped, the car was parked outside of a house Jongin had never seen before, run-down and seemingly forgotten. 

“Where are we?” Jongin asked. 

“Home,” Chanyeol smiled. 

He led Jongin from the car into the house, and the draft was bad, but it was summertime, and it was hot enough outside that the wind that slipped through the walls was welcome. The house was littered with guns, with cigars and bottles of booze, and Jongin looked around. It was well in need of a woman. Someone to clean it. 

“What is this?” Jongin asked with a smile. 

“Place we can stay,” Chanyeol said, and he took Jongin in his arms. “Somewhere we can be alone.” 

Jongin sighed into the embrace: he missed this. Missed Chanyeol looking at him like this, like he was something to be coveted. Like he’d lie, cheat, and steal just to keep him. 

“You want a smoke?” Chanyeol asked. 

“Nah,” Jongin said, and he pushed his chest into Chanyeol’s. “I don’t want a smoke.” 

Chanyeol kissed him like he knew what Jongin wanted. He licked into Jongin’s mouth, and oh, it was good, he remembers it being the best he’d ever felt before. He got hard in his pants so fast he went all lightheaded, clinging to Chanyeol as if his life depended on it. 

“Touch me,” Jongin said. “Please touch me more.” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, hands greedy up and down Jongin’s body. “I’ll touch you where ever you want.”

The beds were shoddy, but the sheets were clean, and Jongin tried his damnedest not to be self-conscious as Chanyeol took his clothes off him. Prison did somethin’ to him, Jongin knew it, but he was still so soft with Jongin, treated him like was the most precious thing in the whole world. 

Jongin pulled at Chanyeol’s clothes hungrily, pulled him to the bed. 

“Come on, then,” Jongin said, and he couldn’t remember ever being so confident before. 

“Alright then,” Chanyeol said. “Can’t say I wasn’t dreaming about this while I was in there.” 

Jongin shut his eyes, let the thought settle over him. He dreamed of Chanyeol too, his hands on Jongin’s body, his mouth against Jongin’s. He touched himself sometimes, thinking about it. Thinking about when Chanyeol came home. And finally, finally, he was. 

Chanyeol folded their clothes, hung them over the end of the bed. And he went to the bedside table. Grabbed the little jar of vaseline. Jongin’s breath caught in his chest. 

“We’ll go slow,” Chanyeol said. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“Okay,” Jongin said, swallowing over his fear. He knew he would be doing lots of things that scared him when he was with Chanyeol. This was small. He could do this. 

When Chanyeol petted his fingers against Jongin, curious and wet, Jongin shuddered out a cry. Chanyeol hushed him quiet, stroked along him. He opened him up like he’d done it before, careful and cautious. Jongin loved him. Loved him. _Loved_ him. 

“Ready?” Chanyeol asked, and he took his cock in his hand. God, it looked too big. Jongin didn’t know if it’d fit. 

“Yes,” Jongin said anyway, and he reached for Chanyeol, let him lie over him. 

Jongin looked in his eyes, and Chanyeol’s hands shook as he positioned himself. 

“I love you,” Chanyeol said as he pushed inside. “I love you, Jongin. Ain’t never loved someone like I love you.” 

“I love you,” Jongin said, and he held onto Chanyeol, felt like he was under Chanyeol’s skin the way Chanyeol was under his. 

They moved with each other, the push and pull of their bodies, and Jongin felt his heart in his throat as Chanyeol started to thrust in earnest. The pain shot through him like a bolt of lightning, and he bit his lip, tried not to show it. 

Chanyeol could read him like a book, though, started playing with him to distract him from it. Jongin shut his eyes, let it work: Chanyeol licked along his neck, sucked on the lobe of his ear, and Jongin gasped, scratching lines down Chanyeol’s back as he groaned. 

“Please,” Jongin said. “Touch me, touch me.” 

Chanyeol obeyed him, and for as weak for Chanyeol as Jongin was, maybe, he thought, maybe Chanyeol was just as weak for him.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
It was the dead of night, and the thrashing beside him woke him up. Jongin sat up wildly, unsure of where he was for a moment, but he looked beside him. Saw Chanyeol’s face twisted up in pain as he moved, fought against some invisible force.

“Baby,” Jongin said, shaking him. “Baby, wake up.” 

Chanyeol gasped awake. Shivering in Jongin’s arms. 

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Chanyeol said. “Nightmare.” 

Jongin’s eyes went wet with tears. “What happened? While you were in there?” 

“Aw,” Chanyeol said, “don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’m never goin’ back.” 

Jongin held Chanyeol close. _Good_ , Jongin thought. _I don’t know what I’ll do without you now._  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Chanyeol couldn’t keep that promise. They found him, and they brought him back. It was Jongin’s worse nightmare, and now that he had had Chanyeol, it was all he wanted for the rest of his days.

His days felt empty without Chanyeol, without the blinding light of his smile, his charm and his cleverness. Some days, Jongin went to the house and just sat, lying in the bed where he and Chanyeol gave themselves to each other. 

He waited. He waited months. And then Chanyeol was put on probation. 

He waited at the house, Sehun and Baekhyun and Jongdae all ‘round the table. When Chanyeol walked through the door, he looked like he was ready to die. When he saw Jongin, he smiled, world weary. 

“Glad you didn’t have to cut off more of your toes this time,” Sehun quipped, and he poured a glass of whiskey, sliding it across the table. 

Chanyeol took it, knocked it back all in one gulp. Jongin watched his throat work, and he licked his lips. 

“That’s enough for one lifetime,” Chanyeol said. “Not goin’ back.” 

Jongdae raised his glass, and Baekhyun joined him before they both toasted to it. Sehun knocked back his own glass, and they stood. 

“Where y’all goin’?” Jongin asked. 

“Gettin’ outta dodge before you two start makin’ like rabbits,” Jongdae snorted at Jongin before turning to Chanyeol. “Swing by when you wanna run.” 

“Will do,” Chanyeol said, and they both watched as the boys filtered through. 

They heard the gas as the car pulled away, and when Jongin turned to look at Chanyeol, he was already eyeing him like he wanted a slice. 

“Missed you,” Chanyeol said. “Missed you _bad_.” 

Jongin launched himself into Chanyeol’s arms, pressed kisses all over his face. He saw that beautiful, blinding smile again, something he missed more than the sun itself. 

They didn’t do much talking after that, or if they did, it was all the silent type of talking. After they were finished, wiped clean and resting in the arms of the other, Jongin turned. Pressed a kiss to Chanyeol’s cheek. 

“Where you boys runnin’?” Jongin asked. “Can I come?” 

Chanyeol pulled him back by the neck. Looked in his eyes. He was scary then, the first time Jongin ever felt the fear of God run through him when Chanyeol looked at him. 

“It’s too dangerous for you,” Chanyeol said. 

“Ain’t nothin’ too dangerous for me,” Jongin said. “Not when I got you.” 

“You think I’m gonna protect you?” Chanyeol said, cocky. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said, and he took all the space that Chanyeol gave him, huddled into his body. “Yeah, I think you’d do anything for me.” 

“Damn right, babydoll,” Chanyeol said. 

It was quiet, overwhelming quiet for several moments, and Jongin felt himself on the edge of sleep by the time Chanyeol spoke again, this time soft. 

“You wanna come with us?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Jongin said. “Wanna help.” 

Chanyeol kissed his forehead. “Alright, baby. You’re gonna drive.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin found out that the boys had a string of robberies, little stores and gas stations they’d hit up from time to time. Chanyeol laid the plans, strapped them up, told them what to do. He was the brains and the brawn, all of it wrapped up into one. And he belonged to Jongin.

It was to be a quick job, in and out, no funny business. And that’s what it was. Jongin waited for the boys as his stomach rolled with anxiety, his foot on the gas, ready to high tail it out of there. He looked around, nervous, and he heard yelling. He didn’t know what to do. But Chanyeol’s words rang in his head. 

_It might get dirty. Don’t do anything. Just wait until you see me. I’ll tell you what to do._

So even as everything in him was telling him to run, he waited. Waited. Waited. 

The boys all ran out of the gas station, guns in hand, smiling up a damn storm as they piled into the car, whooping and screaming to heaven. 

“Drive, baby,” Chanyeol yelled. “Drive!”

And that’s exactly what Jongin did. Dust kicked up behind them as they went, and Chanyeol kissed him so hard on the mouth that the car swerved.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Once Jongin got a taste, once he saw what Chanyeol was like when he had a gun in his hand and money in his pocket, all he wanted was more. He would follow Chanyeol to the bitter end, and he would be smilin’ the whole way.

They didn’t have no problem, most of the time, especially not in those early days. They went wherever they wanted. State lines were their best friends. The li’l Mom and Pops didn’t stand a chance against them. No one did. 

But then everything changes. It’s 1932, and they’re living easy. 

“You be good now,” Jongin says, patting Chanyeol on the chest. “I expect you be on your best behavior.” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he clicks his bootheels together, mock saluting Jongin. “Go on in. Tell your mother I say hello.” 

“I’ll see you soon,” Jongin says. “Try not to miss me too much.” 

“All I do is miss you, baby,” Chanyeol says. 

But it’s weeks before Jongin sees Chanyeol again. Jongin waits for him, writes poetry in his bedroom. Thinks about what they’ll do when they see each other again. 

When Chanyeol comes back, he picks Jongin up and whisks him off like it was nothing. 

“What happened?” Jongin asks. “While you were away.” 

“Aw, nothin’ much,” Chanyeol says. 

Jongin drops it for a minute, but then he sees the gun on the dash. Chanyeol is no stranger to using it. Jongin wonders. 

“You kill somebody?” Jongin asks. 

Chanyeol looks over quickly before looking back at the road. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “You want me to turn around? Drop you back off at Mama’s?” 

“No,” Jongin says. “I just wanna know.” 

“We were at a dance,” Chanyeol says. “Drinking.” 

“You and the boys?” Jongin asks. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, mind you. Just having fun. Cop comes up. Starts asking questions.” 

“You killed him?” Jongin asks. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “Me and Sehun. A deputy. Hurt another one, a sheriff maybe.” Jongin sits, quiet. “There’s still time for me to turn around.” 

“I don’t want you to turn around.” 

“No?” Chanyeol asks. 

“No.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin can’t keep track of how many places they hold up. Not many banks, Chanyeol says. Banks are messy. Too many chances to get cornered. They keep to the little shops and stations. Sometimes, Jongin is left behind to wonder if all goes well. Chanyeol always comes back with a smile, richer than when he left. It’s good.

“What are you writin’?” Chanyeol asks, chin hooked over Jongin’s shoulder. 

“Nothin’ important,” Jongin says. 

“One of your poems?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s silly.” 

 

“Nothin’ you do is silly,” Chanyeol says. And Jongin believes him.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
They keep killing. They keep stealing. They get more than they know what to do with. Whenever they get caught, whenever there’s nothin’ doin’, Chanyeol pulls his gun, Sehun pulls his, Jongdae and Baekhyun too. And they fire. Fire like no tomorrow.

They run, they take cars. They just keep running. 

“There ain’t nothing in this world better than this,” Chanyeol says, cigar between his teeth, slurring all his words. 

He drinks in the bathtub, smokes, and he is the picture of luxury. Beautiful and gilded. 

Jongin watches him from the hotel bed, the plush mattress well beyond what he ever could have dreamed for his life. “Come to bed.” 

Chanyeol looks back over his shoulder, sees Jongin sliding a hand down his stomach, playing with the hair on the lowest part of his stomach. 

“Anything for baby,” he says.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin, Chanyeol, and the boys go everywhere. They end up in Missouri, a nice house that Sehun gets for them. It seems like a good enough place to put down some roots, and that’s what they do. Jongin makes the house a home, and they sit in the evenings, drinking and smoking and carrying on like young people are supposed to. The card games got loud, got mean, got more _boisterous_ than the sleepy little town could handle.

Maybe they’re louder than they should be, but Jongin can’t find it in himself to chastise them. He loves seeing them carry on like children. 

He should have said somethin’, though. He realizes that when the cops come to find them. 

“Shit,” Chanyeol says. “Shit. Okay. Strap up.” 

Immediately they move into action, and Jongin watches as Chanyeol directs them on where to go, what to do. Then, Chanyeol shoves the Browning Automatic into his hands. 

“I’m gonna kill those sons of bitches,” Chanyeol says, and he plants a kiss on Jongin’s mouth. “They start aimin’ at us….drive ‘em back. We’re gonna get the car. And then you’ll get in with us. Can you do that? Are you gonna do it?” 

“Y-yes,” Jongin stutters. “I will.” 

“That’s my baby,” Chanyeol praises. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

The windows open, and gunfire pours down from heaven. Jongin watches, horrified but strangely excited, when the shots land and the constable and the detective fall to the ground. Jongin does what he’s supposed to do, firing the rifle and aiming at the tree, shooting splinters from the wood. 

“Now,” Chanyeol yells from the car. “Now, we’re movin’!” 

Jongin runs, his heart pumping faster than it’s ever pumped before, hopping in the car and speeding off. They left everything but each other. But that’s all they need. That’s all they’ve ever needed.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Chanyeol shoves a paper into Jongin’s hands, and Jongin has to put his coffee down just to see.

Chanyeol’s handsome face is there, cold but cool. 

“Always wanted to be famous, didn’t you?” Jongin smirks. 

“Yep,” Chanyeol says. “And look at you.” 

Jongin scans down the page, and for a moment, he doesn’t even recognize himself. But there he is. The silly pictures Chanyeol took of him along the way, a fat cigar hanging out of his mouth, a rifle in his arms. In one, they’re aiming the guns at each other, Baekhyun crying with laughter behind the camera. They were stupid. They were in love. They’re still like that, Jongin figures, still stupid and in love. 

“Oh, my mama is gonna kill me,” Jongin cries. 

“Nah,” Chanyeol says, kissing Jongin square. “She’ll never catch us alive.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
They try a bank. It gets messy, just like Chanyeol said it would.

“I keep tryin’,” Chanyeol says. “I don’t wanna kill nobody.” 

And Jongin believes him. Because whenever they can, they kidnap ‘em, drive ‘em across the friendly state lines, and then they set them loose with some cash to get home. They never been killers, really. They only do it when they need to.

The bank gets botched, and they take a life or two. The papers...nobody’s laughing with them anymore. They just wanna see ‘em hang. 

“We’re not hangin’,” Sehun says casually. “No way.” 

“No way,” Baekhyun echoes. 

“No way,” Chanyeol says. 

Jongin stares out the window as they drive, all the way up in Minnesota now. “No way.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Everyone is always lookin’ for em. They drive in circles, and eventually, everyone knows their face. They can’t even stop in one place anymore. No motels for them. They cook by campfire, they wash in the rivers. They all start to bicker, sick of each other. Jongdae leaves, and so does Baekhyun. They run home to mama, and they both get caught.

There’s more room to stretch out after they leave, but Jongin misses them all the same. He has to do more of the legwork when they’re gone, and he’s never been real good at the legwork.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
It all goes to hell quick, like you’re running upstairs and you miss a step.

Chanyeol isn’t paying attention to the road, doesn’t see the signs, and before Jongin knows what way’s up, the car is rolling. They scream, terrified, and when the car finally stops rolling, Jongin screams loudest. 

He isn’t sure if it’s fire or acid that starts burnin’ him, but it leeches up his leg, seizing him with pain. 

They wash him in the river, and when he looks down, the skin from his hip to his foot is chewed up, washed away and raw. He retches when he realizes he can see through his leg, all the way through to the bone. 

“F-f—,” Jongin says, about to cry and scream and curse. “F-f—” 

He bites his lip so hard he tastes metal, and he tries to be strong. 

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” Chanyeol hushes him, lips against Jongin’s forehead. “Just be strong for me.” 

Jongin shivers, the pain eating him alive.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
After that, Jongin can’t walk. Chanyeol and Sehun bandage him up, but it’s useless. Jongin has to put an arm around Chanyeol just to hobble around. They make a funny-looking pair, all beat-up and languishing. It’s never been as bad as this, Jongin knows that to be true. They’ve never been this bad off.

“It’ll be okay,” Chanyeol says. “You’ll be alright in no time.” 

There are small comforts now, and Chanyeol gives them to Jongin with open palms. Sehun and he hit up every gas station they can find, and they kill a marshal along the way, before they have enough money to rest for the night. 

It’s called the Red Crown Tourist Court, and Chanyeol stares up at the building with glassy eyes. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Sehun says nervously. “This place is crawling with coppers. That massacre was only a few weeks back, Yeol.” 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says. “It’s here or nowhere.” 

“I’m pickin’ nowhere, then,” Sehun says. “We should get moving.” 

“Two to one,” Chanyeol says. “You’re overruled.” 

“Don’t play with me like that,” Sehun says. “We can’t stay here.” 

Chanyeol jabs him in the chest with a hard finger. “This is where we stay the rest of the night,” he says, “even if we all get killed before morning.” 

“Okay,” Sehun says. “But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Chanyeol pays for the rooms in coins, and he backs the car into the lot nose out.

The night fell like a blanket of darkness, and by one in the morning, the tavern is nearly empty. Jongin notes the quiet, the stillness of it. It’s not to last, he realizes. Nothing like that could ever last. 

There is a sharp knock. Not on their door, but on Sehun’s. 

“You’ll have to wait a minute,” Sehun calls. “I’m undressed.” 

“Well, put some clothes on and come on out,” the voice calls. “Where are the other two?” 

“Other cabin,” Sehun calls loudly. 

They already have the guns on them. That’s how it always was. Jongin knows those two would shoot their way out if they had to. And that’s what they do. 

The bullets spray through the door, and the patrolman staggers back like he’s been hit by a high-pressure water hose. The cops have big guns, big sub-machines, but they aren’t any match for the Browning Automatics, the way they blast through the walls like a hot knife through butter. 

They run to the car, the three of them moving like wind and water, and then they see it: the car blocking them in. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Chanyeol says, hands banging the steering wheel. “Okay. Hit ‘em.” 

“What?” Sehun calls, confused. 

“Hit the damn car!” Chanyeol yells. 

They open fire, and it is a sound like Jongin’s never quite heard before, the hollering of the metal. Eventually, Jongin doesn’t know how, but the horn in the car starts screaming. And all of a sudden, the cops start pulling back. The car pulls back. 

A grenade falls down from the sky, and they all brace for the impact of it: but it’s just smoke. Just smoke clouding in the air. Tear gas. 

Chanyeol’s eyes go wide. He steps on the gas, out of the lot. Onto Highway 71 as quick as that can will move.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
They’d tell stories about that final run, just days into the new year.

They’d say that Jongin fired the final shots, the coup de grace. They’d say that Jongin laughed as the patrolman’s head bounced on the ground as he shot him. They’d paint that picture of Jongin that Jongin didn’t recognize: cigar-smoking, wanton and mean. At the very beginning, he said he wanted more. He didn’t know that he wanted this. 

Jongin was asleep in the backseat when the assault began, but it didn’t stop him from going out to try and help as the men laid dying. 

“Ain’t nothin’ doin’,” Sehun shouts. “They’re dead as doornails.” 

Jongin runs back to the car with the rest of them, and the gas...the smell of gasoline is thick in his nose. He brushes the back of his hand against his nose, his mouth as he stares out the window. 

“Don’t look,” Chanyeol says gently as Jongin looks back on the blood-stained street, the car speeding off. “Don’t look, doll.” 

But Jongin looks. 

And he feels the walls closing in, feels them choking him alive.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
It’s never really been about getting rich, although maybe there was a little of that. The anger of being poor, sometimes it was enough to kill you. You just wanted something. Anything.

But really, it’s always been about something more than that. Jongin doesn’t know what, he just knows it’s not about money. 

Maybe it’s always been about running. Getting away. But they can’t go very far. Not with what they make. They never stop for long. They can’t afford to. 

He rests his head on the inside of the window when they ride, letting his eyes slip closed. Chanyeol will wake him when need be. He always does.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
It’s not a week later that Jongin does something he never did before, something he never even thought of doing before, no matter what the papers all said. Isn’t that what he said he wanted? To do things he never did before?

It’s a constable, on their case. Chanyeol and Sehun get him on the ground, hitting him so bad that blood shoots out of his mouth in a funny little red stream. When they hold him down, they shove the gun to Jongin. 

“Do it,” Sehun shouts. 

Jongin looks at Chanyeol with wide eyes, hands shaking. 

“Do it,” Chanyeol says. 

Blood runs through the man’s mustache. Tears. So many tears, Jongin has seen them all. He closes his eyes against it. 

“Do it.” It’s just a whisper. Chanyeol is good at that. Making these bloody words sound like sweetness. 

Jongin squeezes, pulls the trigger, and hears his life change. 

“Shit,” Sehun curses, and when Jongin opens his eyes, Sehun is wiping his hands on his pants. “Let’s go. We gotta move.” 

They pick up the constable’s partner, beat him silly. Jongin doesn’t know if it’s Sehun’s idea or Chanyeol’s idea, or even if it’s his own. It all bleeds together now. And none of it makes any sense. 

“Don’t kill me,” the patrolman says. “Don’t make this worse on yourselves.” 

Sehun laughs, looks at Chanyeol who shoots him a smile. “We were never gonna kill ya.” 

Jongin watches Chanyeol hand the guy a shirt from the back of the car, clean and white. Then, he slips him a couple dollars. Chanyeol throws the door open, and the man stares back at him like it’s a mistake. 

“Go on,” Chanyeol orders. “Get. Tell everyone. You know who it was. Chanyeol and Jongin.” 

The man starts running. 

“Hey!” Jongin shouts, unable to stop himself. 

The man turns, bewildered. 

“Tell the papers,” he says, swallowing his spit, “tell ‘em I don’t smoke cigars! I only ever smoked cigarettes! Camels!” 

Sehun and Chanyeol burst into laughter, and the man turns back around, running wildly like his life was on the line. And maybe it is. Jongin doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the plan. Doesn’t even know if there _is_ a plan. 

Chanyeol throws an arm around Jongin’s neck, kissing him on the top of the head. 

“You’re the sweetest thing on Earth. Sweeter than candy,” he says. “Love you, baby doll.” 

Jongin buries his face into Chanyeol’s chest. “Love you more.” 

And that’ll always be true, no matter what the plan is.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
The bed is so warm with Chanyeol in it. He surrounds himself with that warmth, lets himself bloom under it.

“You’re okay, ain’t you?” Chanyeol says. 

Jongin tits his head up. Chanyeol is looking down at him. Studying him. 

“I’m okay,” Jongin says. 

“I know we put you on the spot,” Chanyeol says. “And I’m sorry, but—” 

“I had to do it sometime,” Jongin says. “Can’t always be...can’t always let you two have the fun.” 

Chanyeol smiles down at him, but it’s a sad smile. Jongin brushes it away with his fingertips. He lies on top of Chanyeol, caging him in with his body. 

“I don’t want your pity,” Jongin says. 

“Good,” Chanyeol says. “Cause I’m not giving you none.” 

“Good.” 

“Good.” 

Jongin swoops down fast, kisses Chanyeol soft and then hard. He runs the tips of his fingernails down Chanyeol’s neck, and a delicate little moan falls out of Chanyeol’s mouth. 

“Look at you,” Chanyeol says. “You know what you want now. You go out, and you take it.” 

“Yeah,” Jongin breathes. “Whatever I want.” 

“Show me,” Chanyeol says, and he looks down at everywhere they’re touching. “Go on. Take it.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
Jongin lies in bed, legs tangled in the sheets. He knows he’s not supposed to smoke in bed, but Chanyeol has given him more than one bad habit.

“Where we headin’ next, baby?” Jongin asks. 

“Louisiana,” Chanyeol says. “Sehun’s family. Maybe we’ll hit that gas station again.” 

“Kay,” he says. Jongin closes his eyes, focuses on the rise and fall of his stomach. The cigarette burns down in his hand, but he doesn’t care. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Jongin opens his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Chanyeol repeats. 

“Nothin’ wrong,” Jongin says, and he leans up, grabs the dish from the side table. He taps the ash into the dish. Takes a drag. He lets it sit in his chest, and then he pushes it out. “Just a little tired.” He slumps back into bed. 

“You?” Chanyeol smiles. “Tired? My darlin’? Never.” 

Jongin smiles, and when Chanyeol strips his shirt off and climbs into bed next to Jongin, he lays himself in Jongin’s arms. Jongin passes the cigarette to him, and Chanyeol takes a quick puff. 

“I love you, baby,” he says, breathing out the smoke. “You know I love you, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin says. “I know.” 

Chanyeol closes his eyes, and Jongin pets through his hair. “Sometimes,” he says. “Sometimes I get tired too.” 

Jongin says nothing, just combs through Chanyeol’s hair with his hand, burning the cigarette down to nothing before stamping it out on the dish. He sighs, sinks into the bed, his lover in his arms. 

“You ever regret meetin’ me?” Chanyeol asks. 

Jongin looks down at him, the peaceful way his eyelashes fall. Dark and full. He was always so handsome. He is the love of Jongin’s life. Every little inch of him, perfect like God came down and spoke just him into existence. 

“Never,” he says. “Never a day.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes open. It was never about the money, Jongin realizes. It was always about this, the feeling. They’re just kids, stupid kids in love with nothin’ better to do than kill or be killed. The world is too harsh, too sad. And Chanyeol is a spot of beauty. White, hot, electric beauty that will burn through everyone and everything if he gets the chance.

Jongin throws himself on the ticking grenade of him. If they go, they’ll go together. 

“I was meant to meet you,” Chanyeol says. “I think I was born just so I could belong to you, baby.” 

He’s got all kinds of lines like that, and Jongin’s heard most, if not all of ‘em. That don’t stop them from working. He can’t help it. He was born so he could belong to Chanyeol.  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
They drive fast, and Jongin sticks his hand out the window in the back, just to feel the air on his hands.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Chanyeol says, looking at him through the shade of his sunglasses. 

“You look prettier,” Jongin says. 

“Keep your pants on and your belts buckled ‘til we get there,” Sehun says, rolling his eyes. 

They head to the motel, and Jongin bites his lip. It’s been a while since they’ve had the chance to relax a little. Chanyeol nods at the girl working the desk who smiles back at him. He always could get the girls to smile easy. He tips her before they walk to the rooms, and Sehun gives a little wave of the hand as he heads through his door. 

Chanyeol leads Jongin by the hand into theirs. 

They throw what little they brought in to the ground, and Chanyeol taps his shirt pocket. 

“Want a smoke?” he asks. 

“No,” Jongin says. 

Chanyeol turns back. Shoots Jongin a look before crossing and taking him in his arms. Jongin squints, but Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, just kisses him hard and fast, hands on Jongin’s neck like they could stay here forever. Chanyeol kisses Jongin possessively, and Jongin offers himself up to it, curving and bending into the touch. _Take whatever you what_ , he thinks. _It’s always been yours._

Chanyeol strips him, familiar with time, and when Jongin’s clothes fall to the floor, he wraps his arms around his middle as Chanyeol takes his own clothes off too. When they’re bare before each other, he kisses Jongin hard, his tongue in Jongin’s mouth, and Jongin moans into it. For the first time in his life, he feels like the person the papers say he is. He feels bad in the best way. Like everything catches up with him all at once. 

He is a devil wrapped in clean white sheets. 

Chanyeol lays him down on the bed, spreads his legs. He kisses down his body, licks him until Jongin’s gasping for it before grabbing the glass jar and wetting his fingers. 

“Let me in,” Chanyeol says softly, and he pushes in slowly, and the air seems to leave the room. 

Jongin closes his eyes, hitches his legs up to make more room for Chanyeol. When Chanyeol is finally buried inside him, Jongin crosses his ankles on the small of Chanyeol’s back, arms around Chanyeol’s neck. He clings to him. There’s no pain, only a blistering, dripping pleasure that gathers and settles in the bottom of his stomach, hot like the exhaust. Smoking into the air. 

He looks into Chanyeol’s eyes, and he’s alarmed when Chanyeol reaches up to brush tears away from Jongin’s face. 

“Does it feel good?” Chanyeol asks. “Am I hurting you?” 

“No,” Jongin says. “No, it feels good. Don’t stop. More.” 

“More?” 

“More, please,” he says. 

Chanyeol smiles, leans down to kiss him as he starts to work his hips, punching moans and whines from Jongin’s stomach. He throws his head back, and Chanyeol kisses along his throat. Jongin holds on tight as Chanyeol moves, fucks him like they’re the only people in the entire world. And maybe they are. Maybe it’s always just been them. 

They cry out together, nails digging into each other as the tumble over the edge, and they rest in each others arms. Jongin shuts his eyes, joyful, and he grins when Chanyeol puts a cigarette between his lips, lights it with his own lit cigarette. 

They lie next to each other, side by side, hand in hand. 

“When we die,” Chanyeol says, blowing the smoke up into the air, “I wanna be buried just like this.” He squeezes Jongin’s hand in his. “Just like this, doll.” 

Jongin shuts his eyes again. He doesn’t wanna think about the end. Ends are sad. And he doesn’t wanna be sad. Not tonight. 

“Don’t talk about that,” he orders. “Let’s be happy.” 

“You wanna be happy?” Chanyeol says. 

“Yeah,” Jongin says. “I’m always happy when I’m with you, baby.” 

“Me too.” 

Jongin looks at him, looks at him looking at the ceiling. His eyes are money. His skin is gold. He’s always been special. He’s always been the love of Jongin’s life, even when they didn’t know. 

“Thank you,” Jongin says. 

Chanyeol turns. “For what?” 

“For making me happy,” Jongin says. 

Chanyeol gives him a kiss. Presses the tip of his finger into Jongin’s chest, right where his heart is. _Stick ‘em up._ They’re good at that now. “You’re the one makin’ me happy,” he says. 

“No,” Jongin argues. “You’re the one.” 

Chanyeol laughs, and Jongin has always wanted to bury himself in that sound. 

“Whatever you say, baby,” Chanyeol tells him, and he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Whatever you say.”  
  


⚀⚀

  
  
On the day it all ends, May 23, 1934, the car rolls to a stop.

Jongin’s head shoots up. It’s wrong. They don’t stop like this. Not like this. They go from point A to point B, and they don’t do no stopping in between. Jongin knows patterns because that’s what you come to rely on. The patterns. 

The car rolls to a stop. And Jongin knows it’s all wrong. He can feel it in his gut now, that type of stuff. It’s about to go bad. Real bad. 

“Go right through,” Sehun advises from the back seat. “Blast it.” 

“No,” Chanyeol says. “We gotta stop.” 

And the car rolls to a stop. That feeling in Jongin’s gut worsens, opens up like a pit, and tears spring to his eyes. This is it. He knows it’s it. Can Chanyeol tell too? Does he know like Jongin knows? Did he know the night prior, when he kissed Jongin so sweetly and told him that he wanted to rest next to Jongin forever? They’ve had their backs against the wall since the very beginning, but now, they’ve stopped running. Finally, they’ve stopped running. 

But Jongin’s scared. 

“Don’t,” he says, and he shoots a hand out, grabbing Chanyeol by the arm. “Don’t. Chanyeol, don’t.” 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says with a smile. And he grabs Jongin’s hand. “Love you, baby.” 

“Love you, baby,” Jongin says through tears. “I _love_ you, baby.” 

There was never going to be any going quiet. They were never gonna be taken alive. They’d go in body bags, or they’d run forever. Hard to stop yourself from runnin’ when you’re in love. Gotta have someone stop you. 

Chanyeol makes to open the door, and the first bullet hits him in the head, his brains painting the inside of the windows pink and red, splattering onto Jongin’s face. And the scream rips itself out of Jongin’s throat before he can even think about screaming. It is the wail of a widow, but he can’t scream long, because the second bullet has Jongin’s name carved into the casing. And it hits him. They keep hitting him. 

The gunfire...it rips through ‘em both, holes in their bodies like someone shook pepper over them. 

Jongin’s eyes stay open when he dies, his stomach and chest pumped full of lead. It don’t take long. He goes quick. That’s what he always wanted. 

He’s wanted a lot of things. 

Most of all, he wanted an adventure. Boy, he got one. 

Just so happens his adventure was named Chanyeol. And what a ride it was.

**Author's Note:**

> hello there all! i hope you enjoyed this mess. i tried hard to keep to the Actual Real Life Occurrences of bonnie and clyde, but i wasnt able to fit everything in, obviously. believe it or not, they did a lot of Robbery and Murder and they had a ton of different people helping them lol 
> 
> so i hope you enjoyed anyhow, even tho i made sehun like, eight diff ppl. its fine. everything's fine. 
> 
> if you liked this, why dont u check out some of my other stuff [gestures to garbage pile] all kinds of trash here for all kinds of trash-eaters. leave me a kudos and a comment, and i'll wish upon a star for you! isnt that sweet! ok bye bye! 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/wolfsupremacist) | [my curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/wolfsupremacist)


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